


Archangels' Gifts

by acme146



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangels, Canon Compliant to a Point, Gen, No Season 13, Spoilers up to season 12, Vessels and Archangels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-02 08:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acme146/pseuds/acme146
Summary: Archangels might be Heaven's most powerful weapon, but that doesn't mean they can't be generous.Once.





	1. Gift of the First

            Michael hovered just above the Milligan boy in the devastated room. The boy had stopped banging on the door, and was now leaning against it, hands over his ears.

            “You’re Michael,” the boy whispered.

            **I am,** Michael agreed. **And you are my vessel.**

“No, I’m not!” they boy said; a flash of fire. “You’re trying to destroy the world, and Dean keeps saying no! I’m just a back-up, and I won’t do it!”

            Michael really wanted to smite the boy, but he had a point. He felt a bit of sympathy; knowing you weren’t the favourite, being passed over…. he knew that feeling. His Father had seen the consequences of his poor choice, but it was too late. The Morning Star had fallen.

            **So what will you do?** he asked, curious. **You know your brothers cannot win.**

“They’re not going to stop fighting,” Milligan replied. “They won’t give up.”

            **Yes, but it will be for nothing.** Michael came closer.

            The boy stared straight back, unafraid. He had Sight. Neither of his brothers did.

            “You’re asking me to give up myself,” Milligan said. “What Zach did…you’ll be worse. You’ll be controlling everything. Why would I do that? ”

            Michael brightened. Negotiation. He knew how to do this. **You want something.**

“Let my brothers live.”

            **You realize I must kill Sam to destroy the Devil?**

“But you can bring him back, just like you brought me back.”

            A simple request. Easy enough.

            **Done. And your second request?**

“Will you…” Adam hesitated. “Will you let me see my mom?”

            Michael reached down carefully, let his Grace brush against Milligan’s—Adam’s—cheek. **You have my word as an archangel,** he said. **Your family is important to you. My family is important to me** _(so long as they remain loyal)._ **If you help me fight for mine, I will protect yours.**

Adam hesitated. Then… “Yes.”

*********************************************

They were falling.

            Michael could hear Lucifer howling with fury, battering against Sam Winchester’s body and soul. It was too late; Michael could already see the Cage below, its door swinging wide.

            Adam was screaming, and Michael winced. The boy didn’t deserve this.

            He looked up, and to his surprise saw a speck of light. It was shrinking—rapidly, rapidly shrinking, but still there.

            He could fly out. Get out of Adam’s body and fly.

            But Lucifer.

            And his promise.

            He was a good son. A good angel. And he kept his word.

            Reaching in, he grabbed Adam’s soul. He infused it with Grace; it would get the boy to Heaven.

            **Farewell, Adam Milligan. Go to your mother.**

He threw Adam high, watched as his soul went flying upwards, faster than they were falling. It disappeared into the still shrinking hole.

            Adam Milligan was saved.

Michael looked down, saw the Cage yawning open.

            His eyes locked with Lucifer’s.

            **Sam Winchester will not die.**

Lucifer smiled, twisting Sam Winchester’s face into a grimacing mask. **Good.**

They hit the Cage and Michael was jolted from Adam’s empty body. Lucifer flung Sam down and assumed his true form.

            **Well, brother?** Lucifer asked. He looked at Sam, and Michael could feel the rage coming off his brother. Feel his twisted glee at his thought of the human suffering.

            Michael sympathized.

            But that could come later.

            **Leave him for now,** Michael decided. **You and I have a fight to finish.**


	2. Gift of the Morning Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is convinced that there's no point in being in love again. Lucifer (much to his chagrin) sets out to prove him wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I realize that sounded like Samifer but it's Saileen. This is also completely AU after 12x06.   
> Also Sam is hella pan in this one. I don't always write him pan, but he is here :)

Sam finished tying his shoes and straightened up.

                “I’m going for a run,” he called.

                His mom looked up from the map of the world. “Be back for supper,” she called. Then she frowned. “Don’t you want to wait for Eileen to come back?”

                “I’m only going for a short one,” Sam said quickly. “She likes going for long runs.”

                His mom raised her eyebrows. “You know, she might enjoy just going with you.”

                “We’ll go another time,” Sam said, shifting. “Maybe tomorrow, before Jody and the girls get here.”

                Without waiting for an answer, he leapt quickly up the steps, closing the door behind him, before he could hear his mother sigh, before Dean came in and they commiserated about ‘poor Sam, can’t he take a hint? They obviously like each other’. The same conversation, in other words, they’d been having since Eileen came to the Bunker about a week ago.

                Sam wanted to retort that Dean shouldn’t talk about not being able to take a hint (eight years and counting), but he didn’t. How could he tell them that they were wrong? That he knew that Eileen was interested. That he knew he was interested in Eileen.

                Which was exactly why he was staying away.

                Sam took a deep breath. The sun was low in the sky, the early spring air soft. Eileen loved days like this.

                _No. You don’t know that. And if you do, you don’t care._

“Yes you do.”

                Sam whirled, yanking his knife from his arm sheath. Lucifer stood there, his vessel looking a little worse for the wear.

                Sam raised the knife but Lucifer just grinned. “How’s it going, Sam?”

                “Get away from me,” Sam snarled through gritted teeth. Part of his brain—the part that wasn’t panicking—noted that Lucifer had read his thoughts.

                “Yeah, I can do that.” Lucifer raised his hands. “Will you relax? I can’t hurt you, remember? You're under divine protection.”

                Sam didn’t relax. “You’re lying.”

                Lucifer sighed. In a blink he was right in front of Sam. He grabbed Sam’s knife and slashed it across his arm. Sam felt the pressure of the blade, waited for the pain, the blood…but nothing happened. He stared disbelieving at his completely whole arm. His sleeve was torn, but the skin was untouched.

                Lucifer handed him back the knife. “Not lying,” he said, like it wasn’t obvious.

                “Then why are you here?” Sam willed himself not to take a step back.

                “I heard you had a problem I might be able to help with.” Lucifer took hold of his arm and snapped, and they went flying.

                Before Sam could even think about struggling, they landed in the middle of a busy street. A woman walked right through him, and Sam flinched.

                “Relax, we’re hovering,” Lucifer let go of his arm. “We’re not quite here. No one can sense us.”

                “Take me back!”

                “No. You need to see this. Shut up.” Lucifer pointed. “Look at her.”

                Sam looked. The woman was nicely dressed, a Coach handbag in one hand and a briefcase in the other. She looked confident and happy.

                “That’s Delia.” Sam remembered her—his first girlfriend at Stanford. The first to argue with the professors and the last to quit studying, she’d been his major competition. She was the first girl he’d ever slept with. Not sex, but actually fallen asleep with her in his arms.

                “Delia Sanders,” Lucifer agreed. “You two broke up because you didn’t have enough time for each other. She started dating girls, and you thought you might have caused that.”

                “She flat out told me I did.”

                “If she could see you right now, she would say sorry. She was young and confused.” Lucifer tilted his head. “Watch.”

                Sam watched as Delia beamed and threw her arms around a short blonde, kissing them deeply.

                “She’s pansexual,” Lucifer explained. “She likes this person right now, but she’s had twenty partners of about five different genders in the last ten years. Not big on long-term, this girl, but she’s happy.”

                Sam watched as the blonde took Delia’s briefcase, then took her free hand and the two walked away.

                Lucifer grabbed Sam’s arm again. This time when they landed, it was in a suburban neighbourhood. A dark haired man was kissing a woman in a doorway. It took Sam a minute to recognize him.

                “Sean,” he said. Sean, an artist with a great gift of persuasion, had spent a summer in Sam’s bed. Sam hadn’t been attracted to many men in his life, but there’d been something about Sean that made his heart race.

                And break.

                “He cheated on you.”

                “With two other guys,” Sam replied, his voice deliberately calm. Sean waved to the woman, and watched as she closed the door. He started walking down the street, and Sam and Lucifer followed.

                “You got tested, right?”

                “We had safe—why am I telling you this?!”

                “Probably because you know I already know,” Lucifer answered. “You don’t know this, though—watch.”

                Sam glared at Sean as, about a block from the woman’s house, he got into an idling car. Sam saw him lean across and kiss the driver.

                “Bastard,” he growled.

                “He’s got seven kids,” Lucifer said offhandedly. “Pays child support for one. Sometimes.”

                Sam shook his head.

                “You’ve got pretty low standards, Sam.”

                “I loved him,” Sam said simply.

                Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You were nineteen.”

                “And I loved him.”

                “Well, you got over him. Which is more than the rest of the trail of people weeping over him, so…good job, I guess.”

                “Don’t need your approval.” The car drove off.

                “Sure you don’t. Anyways, on to the next stop!” Lucifer went to grab his arm, but Sam was ready for him this time, and stepped away.

                “Why are you doing this?”

                Lucifer scowled at him, but Sam didn’t budge.

The Devil rolled his eyes. “There is a point, but you’re not going to get it until the next stop.”

“Tell me now.”

“You won’t believe me. I know you won’t.”

“And if I won’t go with you?”

Lucifer snapped, and Sam felt wind whoosh through his hair as they landed on the sidewalk. “Have fun in Tulsa.”

Sam sighed. “Fine.” Gritting his teeth, he held out his hand.

Lucifer batted his eyelashes as he took it. “Charmed, Mr. Winchester.” Before Sam could retort, Lucifer snapped and they whisked away again.

They were floating in a park now. There were children running around the huge snowy field and laughing. A few parents were joining in, chasing kids and dogs.

Sam’s heart stopped as he recognized one of the dogs.

_Riot._

The Australian Shepherd older now, but Sam would have recognized him anywhere. He was patiently running alongside a small girl with thick, curly dark hair.

Her mother’s hair.

Sam looked up and saw Amelia.

Relaxed, pregnant, hand in hand with Don, she was laughing as she watched her daughter play with Riot.

Sam felt tears run down his face. “She’s okay,” he whispered. “She…they’re okay.”

Lucifer nodded. “Don got discharged. He works construction now. They had the little girl two years ago.” He looked at Sam curiously. “I have to say, you’re much happier than I imagined.”

“I thought I screwed everything up,” Sam said, throat thick. “I thought…”

“You didn’t.” The archangel fell silent, and they watched the scene. Don picked up his daughter and slung her on his shoulders; the little girl shrieked with delight. Amelia reached up and took her hand. Family.

“Right,” Lucifer said. “Time to go. Unless you want to talk to her—”

“No.” Sam had never been more sure of anything.

“Alright.” Lucifer snapped, and they were back in front of the Bunker. The sun hadn’t moved.

Sam stepped away from Lucifer, crossing his arms over his chest. “What was the point of that?”

The archangel groaned. “What do you think the point was? What did all those people have in common?”

“I’m not with them anymore?”

“No. You were with them all. And they’re still alive.” 

Sam looked away.

“Sam, I know that you think loving that deaf girl—”

“Eileen,” Sam snarled. “Her name is Eileen.”

“Who cares?” Lucifer held up a hand and Sam swallowed his retort, fists clenched. “You think you’re cursed, that loving her will kill her. At the very least, she won’t be happy.”

“How do you know that?”           

                “I keep getting your prayers,” Lucifer said simply. “I have no idea why, but I’ve been hearing them all year. You pray a lot for someone who’s actually met God.”

                Sam bit his lip, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

                “Oh, I know, or you wouldn’t be doing it. I’ll see if I can figure it out. It’s getting annoying.” Lucifer waved his hand. “The point is that you’re wrong.”

                “I’m not.”

                “Yes you are.” Lucifer’s gaze bore into him. “I know your soul better than anyone else alive. There’s no curse attached.”

                 Sam didn’t buy it. Jess, Madison, Ruby, Brady, Sarah…

                Lucifer sighed. “You always look on the down side, don’t you? Yes, people you were in love with or just fucked died. But it looks like the body count around you is pretty high anyway. That’s the life you have. And if some of those are romances? That’s just part of it.”

                “What part of this is supposed to making me feel better?”

                “The part when you realize that you’re not a curse. You fucked a werewolf who made a choice to kill herself rather than hurt others, a demon who got you high and was trying to destroy the world and you took offense to that, and a boy who actually said yes to a demon.”

                Sam flinched.

                “Oh yes, that happens sometimes. In his defense, Brady was trying to keep his grades up.” Lucifer scoffed. “That was one persuasive demon. Anyways, you made some bad choices, and I’d like to point out that you’ve been hurt too. You’ve suffered for loving them.”

                Sam swallowed. “You don’t usually protect me from pain.”

                “That’s true,” Lucifer agreed. “But I…I owe you. For Amara.”

                Sam didn’t speak, but he remembered.

                “And as for the med student and the artist…well, yes, they were killed because of you. But you didn’t kill them. And didn’t you do what you could to protect them at the time?”

                “It wasn’t enough,” Sam said, throat tight, remembering lies about hunting, searching a room for hex bags. Jess burning, Sarah choking.

                “You did what you could.” Lucifer’s face was almost soft, almost caring. “You’re in a life where you lose people. That’s part of your job. But there’s nothing special about you. Go and fuck as many people as you want. You won’t kill them.”

                “You’re lying,” Sam whispered, desperately trying to stamp down his hope.

                “I told you, I can’t lie to you.”

                “Then what the hell happened last year?!”

                “Technically I never lied. Technically. I skirted the line pretty well.”

                Sam shook his head. “Why are you trying to make me happy?”

                “I told you, I owe you. I also don’t want to hear any more prayers bitching about the impossibility of being happy.”

                “Believe me, I don’t _want_ to pray to you.”

                “Perhaps if you preface the prayer with my father’s name?” Lucifer shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Just…go forth and multiply. Be happy in this.”

                Sam stared at him. “You won’t…you won’t interfere?” Because Rowena might be persuaded, and Crowley had joined in on the conversations, but Lucifer couldn’t be controlled.

                Then it hit him.

                “You can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t, because you can’t hurt people I—” He stopped.

                “You…what?”

                “I’m not saying it to _you_.”

                “Fair enough. Goodbye, Sam Winchester.” Lucifer snapped and vanished, leaving Sam standing alone and shaky.

                He turned to go back into the Bunker, then heard a horn honk. Eileen was driving up to the Bunker. She leaned out of the car. _Going for a run?_ She signed. _Without me?_

_I—_ Sam paused. _It doesn’t matter. Would you like to go for a walk instead?_

_Just the two of us?_ There was a flash of hope in her eyes, and Sam’s heart ached. Maybe he’d been hurting her more by staying quiet.

                _Sure. We can walk and get some dinner together._

Eileen stared at him for a long minute, and Sam held his ground.

                Then she smiled. “I’d love that,” she said. “I’ll go park and come back.”

                Sam gave her a thumbs up and went inside. He nearly bumped into his mother.

                “I was just—Sam?” His mother looked worried. “Is something wrong?”

                Sam shook his head, startled to realize it was true. “I just need my coat. Eileen and I are going to get dinner together.”

                His mom beamed. “Sure thing, honey. Tell Eileen I said hi, and be home before midnight.”

                Sam rolled his eyes. “Will do.” He grabbed his coat. “Um, could you not tell Dean?”

                Mary winked. “Sure thing.”

                Several hours later—long past sunset, long past midnight—Sam came running back, Eileen hot on his heels. He skidded to a halt a few feet from the Bunker and scooped her up. There was just enough light to see, and he smirked as he signed _I win._

Eileen kissed the smirk off his face. “You won two out of five, Sam.”

                Sam kissed her again, as long as he could.

                “What the hell are you kids doing?”

                Sam whirled. Dean stood in the door in his dead guy robe, fighting to stop smiling.

                “It’s way past curfew!” he scolded.

                Eileen signed something very rude. Sam bit back a groan. His brother was going to be impossible.

                Eileen slid out of his arms, but kept her hand in his. “We’re home now,” she said to Dean. “Now go to bed with Cas. We need to shower.”

                Sam threw his head back and laughed at Dean’s appalled look. He pushed his spluttering brother out of the way and led Eileen downstairs.

                The moment the door swung shut, Lucifer stepped out of his hiding place on the hill. He listened for a minute, but when he heard only one shower turn on and Dean make his way to the kitchen where Cas sat alone…well, it wasn’t his problem anymore. He’d done something for Sam.

                The debt was clear, and this archangel had things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's catching hints of Daybreak here, that's because this chapter was originally written for that story. I decided to change it up, and post this as a separate story instead.


	3. Gift of the Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael considers their options, and decides to show their little brother some mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set just before the beginning of season 6. Raphael thinks of themselves as gender neutral.

Raphael sat back in Ken Lay’s chair and thought about Castiel’s death.

They hoped they would be there to see it. They couldn’t claim sole right to kill of course; Castiel needed to be eliminated. Whoever did it would have Raphael’s gratitude.

It would still be far more satisfying to watch their rival burn up like a dying star.

Raphael tapped their fingers, irked by the need to stay in their vessel even within Heaven. But there was no getting around it—there were few humans that could hold them. The man they currently controlled was brain-dead; he would die if Raphael left his body. They were stuck like this until the rebellion was crushed and they could stay in Heaven, directing the Apocalypse from afar. They were tired of Earth.

Thinking of the Apocalypse reminded them of a decision that had to be made. One of the lesser angels—Ambriel, perhaps? —had suggested they take advantage of Castiel’s greatest weaknesses.

Raphael was no fool. Before the Apocalypse even began, they and Michael watched the human woman Lisa Braeden and her son. In the end, Michael refused to use a child as a vessel, but he’d ordered Raphael to keep watch anyways. Raphael obeyed, and continued to watch now, while Dean Winchester lived with them.

It would be so easy. So, so easy.

Raphael didn’t even have to threaten Castiel; their errant brother knew well about his humans’ danger. Raphael assumed that was why Castiel allowed the soulless Sam Winchester to wander with his mother’s kin and refused to answer Dean Winchester’s prayers.

Raphael could send angels to take Dean Winchester. Take his woman, take his child. They could find Sam Winchester, take him too. Castiel did not lust after the younger Winchester, but he’d risked the wrath of Hell to save the boy (though the stupid, stupid seraph had left his soul—a fitting punishment for both). Castiel cared for them both. He would give up to save them, and Raphael knew it.

Too easy.

Raphael had heard the whispers. _Colder than Michael. Merciless. Pretender._ They could, of course, smite the whisperers, but that would solve nothing. Their brothers were gone, gone beyond their reach until the Apocalypse began again. Until then they had to prove they could lead, and perhaps the dissenters were right. Mercy, after all, was important for a God.

Raphael smiled and leaned back. They would be merciful. The Winchesters would not be used as bait. Castiel would be fought on the established battlegrounds. They would not play that card.

However, if the Winchesters made any trouble…well, Raphael would learn from the mistakes of their brothers. The humans would be taken and broken until they agreed to the Apocalypse.

Mercy was important, but Raphael wanted the Apocalypse.

Something had to give.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you who have read my other work might be surprised by how harsh this Raphael is, but I needed to get this out of my system.   
> Three down, one to go. Who on earth is the last one?  
> Cheers,  
> Acme


	4. Gift of the Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has a choice to make, and a family member talks him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons abound in this chapter!

            A Jack Russell terrier leapt into the air and caught a bright blue ball. Delighted with his success, he trotted back to his master.

            “Good job, Arthur,” Gabriel said. He picked the dog up, letting him gnaw on the ball. “That was your best jump yet.”

            Gabriel looked out over the park. It was nearly sunset, and the field was deserted. It was just him and Arthur.

            And now—she was late, almost too late—Billie.

            “There you are!” Gabriel cried.

The Reaper just blinked.

Undaunted, Gabriel set Arthur down. “Go say hi to my Aunty, Arthur.”

Billie snorted.

            Gabriel winked. “Come on, you didn’t think you were going to fool me, did you? You can’t trick a Trickster.”

            “And yet that’s why you’re here.”

            Gabriel winced, a flash of pain going through his chest. “Harsh.”

            “I’ve never claimed to be nice. Though I suppose I can sympathize.” Billie flickered for a moment, and Gabriel saw the shadow of the thin, pale man she’d been before.

            “Guess we both thought people cared more.”

            Billie shrugged, solid once more. “I made a mistake. An obvious one. You at least had reason for hope.”

            Gabriel looked away. “Yeah, well…on the topic of your mistake…”

            Billie groaned. “Is this why you called me here? The _Winchesters?”_

            “I’ve heard they think they’re headed to the Empty.”

            Billie’s gaze didn’t waver. “How’d you hear that?”

            “There’s enough of me left on Earth to hear gossip. Is it true?”

            “Yes.”

            “Can you not?”

            Billie glared at him.

            “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not completely stupid. You’re not going to toss them there, it would be a disaster.”

            Billie grimaced. “Their souls are the most powerful your father ever created. Can you imagine what they would do to the Empty?”

            Gabriel shuddered, imagining an entire dimension born from the souls of Sam and Dean Winchester. It didn’t bear thinking about.

            “So what are you asking me, nephew?” Billie wasn’t really his father’s sibling, but from the earliest days of the universe, they were family. The first family ever. Gabriel was thankful that they weren’t the only blueprint for domesticity.

            “I was wondering, quite honestly, if you could let them know they won’t go to the Empty. Cast it as a lesson, do whatever you like with it. They definitely deserved it for a while, but they don’t…they don’t deserve to think that forever.”

            Billie was silent for a moment. “Which one are you most worried about?”

            “The same one you are,” Gabriel replied. “Dean.”

            “But you’re worried about him for a different reason.”

            Gabriel nodded, the little brother he’d left behind, once willingly and now by force, coming into mind. “He’s not going to move forward, or try to be happy, if he thinks he’ll be tossed aside like trash. He already feels that way as it is.”

            “I don’t understand that. In either of them.”

            Gabriel shrugged. “The neuroses of the Winchesters could fill a thousand websites. But they have some good reasons. If Dean has hope, his brother will too. He might even figure out how to tell my brother how he feels. They might even be _happy_. Goodness knows they deserve that”

            “Softie.”

            “Will you do it or not?” Gabriel snapped.

            Billie nodded. “Soon.”

            “How soon?”

            “In the next two weeks. So right about sunset here.”

            Gabriel flinched.

            Billie looked at him intently. “Will you still be here when that happens?”

            “I haven’t decided yet,” Gabriel muttered.

            “You have to make a choice,” Billie said. “Otherwise it’ll be made for you.”

            Gabriel looked away, into the sunset. He could feel the place fading, his connection to the Earth getting weaker. He had enough strength for one last effort…or he could give in.

            “If you stay, I imagine you’ll join your father and aunt,” Billie said. She bent down and patted Arthur. “In fact, I can guarantee it.”  

            _Dad. Aunt Amara._

He’d missed them both so much he’d gotten used to the pain. It was always there, a constant gritting of teeth, a never-full smile.

            But…

            “I’m not going to make your choice for you,” Billie said. “Just…know you’ve got one. I’ll see you around, nephew.”

            She vanished.

            Gabriel bent and scooped Arthur up. He’d met the dog almost a century ago, and kept him around almost entirely because he was a good listener, even for a dog. But he couldn’t help now; he couldn’t find the words to explain how he felt.

            He didn’t have to go back. He’d paid his dues, he was legally (well, canonically at least) dead. He could leave.

            Or he could stay.

            Gabriel hugged Arthur close. “Come on, buddy,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

            And they walked into the sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this concludes this short story. I think the archangels are fascinating, and unfortunately the last few seasons of SPN have reduced their complexities, so I fixed it :)   
> Cheers,  
> Acme

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that foray! #AdamwasnotintheCage. We're going in order of birth that I've deduced, so Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel. I'd say that this chapter and Raphael's are bluntly canon compliant, Gabriel's is potentially (if you ignore season 13, which I did because I wrote this during season 12), and Lucifer's is just...not.   
> Cheers,  
> Acme


End file.
